


Vicchan's Wish

by gabapple



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character Turned Into a Ghost, Doggos - Freeform, Dogs, Gen, NLA Canon, Post-Episode: s01e08 Yuri vs Yuri! The Horror!! Rostelecom Cup Short Program, Rostelecom Cup, Spirits, don't eat that, pet problems, puppers, steamed buns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:06:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9142228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gabapple/pseuds/gabapple
Summary: Any Good Dog will wait for their master to return as long as it takes- even into death. But although Yuuri's been back for almost a year, Vicchan can't seem to move on. It looks like he'll need Makkachin's help to right the wrongs of the past and set his master free of the heavy burden of guilt... but can Makkachin bring himself to disobey Viktor for the greater good?





	

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in episode eight, during the Rostelecom Cup. It's technically "canon" for our longer fanfic work, [Never Look Away](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8997835/chapters/20547385), but I couldn't figure out how to fit it in without it seeming VERY SILLY... so decided to try it as a one-shot. If this works out well, we may do this for other things, too. There are lots and lots of side stories that we have to tell that would slow the main plot line down, so be sure to comment if you enjoyed! :)  
>   
> Gosh I sure love writing about dogs, though.

He woke with a chill in his coat and an ache in his bones. It was getting colder, and while the bed was soft, it wasn’t as warm as he preferred. It was never as warm as when he slept with his Person. But Viktor always left this time of year, like he was one of the birds that fled as soon as the weather turned. Makkachin stretched and rolled over in the little bed under the bar, yawning until his tongue managed a complete curl back into his mouth, then shook his groggy head. It was early yet, but the People of the house would be up soon.

The poodle tucked his nose under a shaggy paw and closed his eyes. The pre-dawn grey light held little interest for him. Hasetsu was such a quiet place, not like Saint Petersburg, which always had traffic right outside the window. Makkachin still did his patrols, as was his duty, but there wasn’t the same sense of urgency here. Mama and Papa Katsuki would feed him, Minako-san would walk him, and there would be plenty of patrons to pet him throughout the day.

As much as he missed Viktor, he knew that his Person would be back, and so he was content to wait as long as it took. It was nothing like waiting alone in their apartment for the superintendent.

He dozed until the Papa of the house came out to greet him, ruffling his head and ears, giving words of encouragement in a language he didn’t know. Makkachin didn’t need to, though. Dogs never needed to know People words to know what they were saying, as well as they learned them in time. What mattered was that Makkachin knew he was loved, that it was a good morning, and that it was breakfast time. He wagged his tail and followed the man into the kitchen, stretching paws and limbs out as he warmed up.

After he ate, he was let out into the side yard for a brief run in the dewy grass and damp stone. The cold clung to his fur so much that after his patrol of the house and all of the grounds, he had to run extra laps just to get warmed up again, and even then, Sister Katsuki had to towel him off when he came inside. By then, the morning was in full swing, with People seated at dog-height tables for delicious food that Makkachin wasn’t allowed to have.

Not that he wouldn’t be given scraps, anyway. With Viktor away, the purebred had put on some pounds, but all in good taste. He greeted everyone with a smile and a friendly tail wave, polite as anyone could expect, and made his way through to the rest of the house. Dogs weren’t allowed in the hot springs area, which was unfortunate; he would have liked to patrol that part of the property, too, but there were rules.

Mama Katsuki patted his head as she left the little side room, sliding the door shut after her. Everyone went into the room for morning rituals, but it was ignored for the rest of the day. He watched her leave, trotting off to attend to the guests, and sat alone in the empty hallway.

He loved his Japanese family. They loved him.

Hasetsu was warmer and quieter. The food was so good, the people friendly, the cats small and fun to tease. All he needed was for his Person to come back, which he would, and everything would be perfect. They’d go back to running every day and cuddling every night. He leaned against the door with a heavy sigh, and went through his list of doggy duties. Patrols, breakfast, napping…

“Makkachin-sama.”

Aru? The poodle lifted a curly ear, little though it helped, and sniffed. The voice had come from behind the door.

“Psst. Makkachin-sama.”

It was small and scratchy, belonging to a small breed, though he didn’t recognize it. Makkachin couldn’t smell anyone, either; he was the only dog at the Hot Springs, he was sure of it. But he _had_ heard a voice.

He got up and tested the door with a paw, but couldn’t work it open that way. His nose, though, was just pointed enough to wedge in and push his muzzle through. After that it was a simple matter of muscling through with his shoulders and trotting inside.

The room, just as he’d seen it hundreds of times before, was empty of people and nearly empty of things; a treadmill, an upended table, and a wall with things on shelves. Mostly it was the scents that filled the room. Incense hung in the air too heavy for his liking, but underneath that were steamed buns. He crossed the tatami mats, blunt claws clipping with each step. He took another deep sniff to get the details through the plastic coverings. Red bean paste. Mama Katsuki made them fresh every morning and set them in that same bowl every day, lit incense, and then took them away every evening. Why?

It didn’t make sense. Why not eat them when they were fresh? Why leave them in the room all day? At least it didn’t go to waste. Was it like hiding rawhide under the sofa? Maybe…

“Makkachin-sama, thank you for coming.”

He looked up, blinking. There, sitting on the altar, was a little red poodle. It had no smell, but it smiled, tail waving in friendly salute. Makkachin sat, head tilting, and sniffed again. “Hello! You’re welcome?” There wasn’t much else he could offer without being able to smell, but at least the other dog, or whatever he was, wasn’t hostile.

The toy poodle nodded, then bowed his head. “Makkachin-sama, I have a favor to ask of you. My name is Vicchan, and I was the dog of this household until a little under a year ago. Yuuri-kun was my Boy, but he left for school, and I died before he could make it back to see me.”

Makkachin understood, then. Vicchan was a Waiting Spirit. Good Dogs waited for their People to return, always, as long as it took, even into death. That explained the lack of scent. He’d seen spirits before, but never talked to one. “I’m sorry. That’s so sad… He’s been back since then, though.”

“Yes. And he’s come to visit me many times.”

Makkachin thought about that. He’d seen Yuuri kneeling in front of the steamed buns before, but he’d just thought that he wanted to _eat_ them. It explained the tears easily enough. But now knowing, it made much more sense. He hung his head, ashamed.

“But… Yuuri-kun still feels guilty. He blames himself. My Boy, my sweet, wonderful boy, can’t let go of the fact that he wasn’t here when I got sick because he was competing.”

The larger poodle’s ears perked again. Competing? Oh, right. Both Viktor and Yuuri were skaters. Makkachin paced his front paws, anxious. Viktor left for days at a time, sometimes weeks, for competitions. If he got sick when Viktor was gone, there was nothing that could be done. “What happened?”

“I got into the steamed buns.”

He gasped. “No!”

Vicchan nodded; it was his turn to be ashamed. “It was my weakness. I’m a dog. My teeth were made for biting, and my tongue was made for tasting, and Kaa-san’s cooking is so good, it can’t be helped.”

Makkachin nodded to that. He could understand. Dogs were dogs; that’s what they did. And Mama Katsuki’s cooking _was_ some of the best he’d ever had in his entire life, which was saying a lot. “So what can _I_ do?”

The toy poodle glanced down at the bowl of steamed buns between them. “All you have to do is eat.”

“Eat?” Makkachin peered down at the buns, still warm and glistening in their wrappers. Condensation gathered in beads of succulent moisture along the top, reflecting the desire in his own eyes. He shook his head. “No. Viktor told me not to steal any. I’m a Good Dog.”

Vicchan hopped—no, floated –down from the altar and stood next to him. “It’s not stealing. Kaa-san puts them in the bowl for me as an offering. They’re mine, and I’m giving them to you. If you eat them, you’ll get sick…”

“I don’t want to get sick!”

“My family will take you to the vet, it’s okay. Then they’ll call Yuuri-kun, and he will send your Boy back to see you.”

Makkachin bristled, pouting. “Viktor isn’t just a Boy. He’s—“

“Gomen, Makkachin-sama,” Vicchan bowed again. “Yuuri-kun will send your _Person_ back to you.”

He relaxed. _Better._

“It will be a sacrifice, but it will make him feel better. Maybe he’ll be able to move on.” Vicchan settled onto the floor, curling into a tiny ball. “He’s such a good Boy. You know what I mean? You would do anything for Viktor-san, wouldn’t you?”

Makkachin knew the answer at once. Of course he would. Viktor got him the good treats, bought him toys, rubbed his ribs, groomed him himself, and even kept the fur between his paw pads trimmed short. Viktor was the best Person in the world. He cried into his fur and hugged him, told people how much he adored him, showed him off whenever they went out. Makkachin was so lucky. He sniffed. “Yes. I miss him.”

“I miss Yuuri-kun, too. But of course we don’t blame them for going after their dreams. We’re happy for them. I love my Boy more than anything. I can’t stand to see him in pain… so please, Makkachin-sama.” The toy poodle put on his biggest puppy eyes. “Please, for me.”

Makkachin whined, torn as he looked between Vicchan and the bowl of steamed buns. “But… I’m a Good Dog…”

“Sometimes, we have to do bad things to be Good Dogs, Makkachin-sama.”

\--

He would wait to eat the steamed buns until that evening, after he’d gone on his run with Minako and done his afternoon patrols. His Japanese family watched the skating show on TV together with other patrons, loudly yelling Yuuri-kun! Yuuri-kun! Which was how he knew that it was time.

Nervous, he made his way back to the room, nosed the door open, and went back to the bowl where Vicchan was waiting for him.

“Just gobble them all, don’t even think about chewing.”

“Am I going to die? That would make Viktor very, very sad.”

“No. Your muzzle is graying, but it’s not your time yet, Makkachin-sama. I promise.”

Makkachin licked his chops. It felt so wrong to disobey, but dogs didn’t lie, even spirit dogs. Vicchan loved Yuuri-kun, just like he loved Viktor. He would be scolded if he survived, but it would be worth it.

He ate and ate, chomping and gulping down until something caught, and he couldn’t quite swallow anymore. Makkachin coughed, shaking his head. Still no breath. He stumbled back, the world sparkling with black splotches of blurry vision.

“Let’s get help,” said Vicchan, trotting in front of him to the hallway. “You’re doing great!”

Makkachin followed as best as he could, long legs losing strength with every passing second. He tried to gag, but it wouldn’t come, and he only made it into the hallway before his legs gave out completely.

“Hey, what’s that noise?”

“Is that the dog?”

\--

When Makkachin woke up again, he was groggy. Groggier than he could ever remember being, except in far distant memories. Dogs didn’t really care about those much, though, so he closed his eyes and tried to forget about it. The air smelled bad, like cleaning supplies and metal. A vet office. His throat hurt, his lungs hurt, and his body _hurt,_ but he could breathe again. He was just tired.

There were other dogs there; smells of pain and relief mixed in with different breeds and animals. Makkachin’s head hurt too much to sort it all out. What mattered was that he was alive. But was it enough?

“Thank you, Makkachin-sama.” Vicchan whispered, curling up against his side. “He’s coming.”

In his immense relief, he fell asleep again.

\--

Viktor was there the next day. His voice cut through the rest of the noise in the office, familiar and concerned. “Please, where’s Makkachin? Excuse me, a poodle? Uhm…” Struggling with the foreign words, getting Sister Katsuki to translate for him.

Makkachin heard him long before he came down the hall, and managed to lift his head before he got to the cage, tail thumping weakly. He didn’t feel up to crawling out when the vet technician opened the door, but that didn’t matter; Viktor got down on the floor and practically crawled in, himself.

“Makkachin!” he cried, rubbing and petting him, hands gentle. “I was so worried. I told you not to—oh, Makkachin!”

Makkachin licked his hand, then his face. He knew the human words that Viktor was using; Russian was something that he was quite familiar with. But even more familiar were the Feeling words that he was using. Viktor loved him, he was glad that he was okay, he’d missed him, too. And he forgave him for eating the steamed buns. He was still a Good Dog, which was such a relief.

Vicchan smiled at them both, sneaking out of the cage. “I think things are much better now, Makkachin-sama… thank you.”

The big poodle gave an open-mouthed smile in response, leaning his head against Viktor’s for a nuzzle against his cheek. His Person hadn’t shaved yet, and he was tired. He must have been very worried. Poor Viktor! He gave him another big lick on the cheek to thank him.

“Please take care of my Yuuri-kun… and give him a kiss on my behalf, please.”

Makkachin promised he would. Anyone who had a dog that loved him so much deserved all the love he could give. Viktor and his Japanese family were his to protect, and he was going to do his doggy job until the end of his days, and longer, if needed.


End file.
